Perpetual Mountains
by hufflepuffsruletheworld
Summary: Two best friends with a world of differences, who love each other but are not in love with each other, goof off and end up in some awkward situations. Based on the quote: "It's okay to need each other. That's what makes us strong. That's what makes us human."
1. The Sorting Hat and Other Characters

It was the first day of school at Hogwarts. I was transferred there from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France, so I was technically a first-year, but my age and, what is the word, "grade" as the muggles call it, placed me as a fourth-year. I was moved because of reasons I don't like thinking about, but I am glad I was. This transfer allowed me to meet Beau Winters.

When McGonagall called in the first-years when the Hogwarts Express finally arrived and docked, I was to go as well. It was time for the sorting hat to work its magic, and was the most awkward moment of my life. I was probably at least a foot taller than all the other new witches and wizards, and that did not help in hiding my pudginess. (If there was anything I could hate more than Voldemort himself, it would be my body.) As the hat touched my head, I could hear its uncertainty. Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff. I ended up in the house of the badger, yellow and black, where "those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil."

Beau, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, would not have been expected to be as close of a companion as he became. He was tall and skinny, seemingly weak, with a mess of unkempt hair that "absolutely must be washed every single day." His attitude was that of loneliness, insecurity, and decrepitude. In other words, he had given up. Every task he had to do was sprinkled with carelessness, and because of that, he was failing. Also_, il n'est pas très beau_.

How could he be sorted into Ravenclaw? How could he be such a good buddy to me? I don't know, and I never will, but I am forever thankful that it happened. It was an unlikely friendship riddled with awkward matches and uncommon characters. A "try your best, never less" girl and an "as long as I pass I'm good" kind of guy with a 3-year age gap, hopeful met hopeless and somehow it just **worked.** I would say that I love him, but that word, love, apparently has romantic connotations that prevent its use where it really matters. I did not want to be his girlfriend, and I was not in love with him. I just loved him and he loved me back. Platonically.


	2. Flitwick and Diaries

Being the new kid meant I was lonely. I said hello to the other girls in my house as I passed them in the halls, as the stairways moved, at the table during meals, and they said hello to me. I made a lot of new acquaintances in no time at all, like a new kind of Hufflepuff magic. It made me feel nice.

Monday morning it was time to put the new schedule into action. Professor Flitwick's class was last on the list. As soon as I walked in I saw one familiar face, that of Emily. She was speaking with this older boy, so I decided to just sit next to her and do what I do best; I listened. The three of us had a couple laughs before class started and I left wanting to come back. Professor Flitwick enjoyed working with students in pairs. This second day in his class, Emily had partnered up with another one of her cooler, prettier, quidditch-playing friends. The boy from the day before, Beau, was alone. I sat down.

Beau and I sort of just, clicked. We finished our "project" quickly and accurately, and had some time to chat, so we did. I learned those first few trivial things about him that one learns about someone when they first meet, like, what year they are, what professors they have, what their fake hobbies are. (Nobody knows what their hobbies are, but everyone has an answer to the question that is only half true. Sure, I like making art, but I don't do it a lot. It's not really a hobby.) That was all the day held.

We were partners all the time and eventually we got to talking about the more important things. He loved music, was failing Divination, and did not like his name because he felt it was inaccurate.

One of those days, he gave me his Diary name. Now before I go on, I must explain how Diaries work. A Diary is the equivalent to a muggle's cellular telephone. It was designed after the discovery of Tom Riddle's diary and works in many of the same ways. One user writes a message in his or her Diary, which appears in the Diary of whomever he or she wants it to. He or she determines this by the Diary name of the person he or she writes on the top of the page. Then, the other person writes back, and his or her message appears in the first user's Diary. This becomes what the muggles might call "texting." It definetely beats owl mail. Beau and I used the Diaries quite a lot.


End file.
